Some of Us Are Looking at the Stars

Opinion article written for my A level English Language coursework, about Autism.

Submitted:Feb 27, 2014
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Some Of Us are Looking at the Stars

"When you look in direction A, at 90 degrees to the disc,
you don't see many stars. But when you look in direction B, you
see lots more stars because you are looking into the main body of
the galaxy". This more-to-it-than-meets-the-eye extract from Mark
Haddon's prize winning novel The Curious Incident of the Dog
in The Night-Time gives us an idea of what the world is like
in the eyes of an autistic. Narrated by a young boy with
autism, who is in fact, a child genius (note the geeky
terminology), on closer inspection, Haddon really gives us an
insight into what autism is like. Haddon's narrator suggests
Direction A resembles the "normal", people who aren't "disabled".
If you look at Direction A, you don't see many stars. People
without disabilities cannot see as much as someone with autism
can. In direction B, you see many more stars, because they see
things differently. Every tiny detail is taken in. As Oscar Wilde
put it, "we are all in the gutter" but those of us who know
autistic people or have autism ourselves are the new stargazers
in town.

Autism affects how a person sees the world, and the
relationships they can build and then keep. They may experience
under-sensitivity or over-sensitivity with their senses, smells,
touch, tastes, sounds, visions. So that'll be much like your
typical, common garden pregnant woman or stroppy teenager
fighting puberty then. According to The Telegraph, the latest
statistics show that 61,570 schoolchildren in the UK have been
diagnosed with having some form of autism. Autism is categorised
as a lifelong developmental disability; however people who suffer
from autism are not less able or any different than the next
person, and I'll tell you why.

In February 2013, the reprehensible Councillor Collin
Brewer said, "Disabled children cost too much and should be put
down". After much persuasion, Collin Brewer (feeling ever
so guilty) typed up his apology letters out to various
frustrated people, including the usually lamentable Katie Price
who has a disabled young boy, Harvey. However, Price and many
others who received their letter, signed by Brewer himself, did
not feel a pang of forgiveness; they took his letter as an
insult, most likely because the letter wasn't much of an apology,
but a stiff, typed up "I am deeply sorry", probably written by
one of his obedient secretaries, with his signature on the bottom
of the tear stained page. Personally, I'm restraining myself from
"putting him down". Having a young brother who has autism, which
isn't the only disability he has, I cannot contain my vexation at
this rabid vermin of a public servant.

More homo-sapiens who exceedingly grind on me for their
stunning lack of kindness towards autistic children are the staff
at New Jersey's Horace Mann Elementary School. In February (must
be a popular month for all the scum of the earth to come creeping
out) last year, Stuart Chaifetz decided after sixth months of
kicking himself in the teeth wondering why his ten year old
autistic sons behaviour at school had suddenly worsened, enough
was enough. He decided he needed to know what was going on in the
classroom, so he attached a recording device to his son, Akian.
That night, Stuart's life shattered. Teachers bullying pupils is
usually rare, and so is young children with disabilities being
targeted by staff. Unfortunately, in this situation, both of
those disgusting things happened. These repugnant, revulsive
excuses for human beings told young Akian that he is "a bastard",
to "shut your mouth", and also discussed their sex lives, use of
alcohol, marriage problems. The monstrosity of this event causes
me to bite on my knuckle until I draw blood. Luckily, the main
culprit was fired, however other teachers who also made fun of
Akian have just been moved to different schools. To bully more
children.

My brother Kieran is three years old, and he is the most
extraordinary person I have encountered. Yes, autism can create
certain barriers when maintaining relationships, and Kieran is
not always ecstatically engaging with children of his own age;
however he can keep a conversation going all day with somebody
older like myself. He can work a computer better than me,
remember faces from two years ago (handy when I can't recall who
I snogged on the weekend), he even does the washing, which is
more than what I do. There were a few teenage boys in McDonalds
some days ago, and as we walked by them, Kieran decided he would
shout his name, date of birth, address and postcode at them. This
is just a thing he does. There has been nothing missing from my
house, yet.

Kieran sometimes gets a bit distressed by certain things
however. For example, he refuses to go to the toilet when we're
in public because he loathes the noise of hand-dryers. I, on the
other hand, just can't hack the smell of the public shithole.
Different strokes, different folks.

Sometimes it's hard to keep calm when he has an episode,
especially in public. When me and my Mother take him to school,
he is not best pleased, and I have to be the one to persuade him
to attend, which is hard work (for me - school is not my strong
point). We then arrive at the playground, where the fun really
begins. Kieran will violently kick, push, scratch anything to get
back in the car and go home (much like how most school teachers
feel every morning, if they're honest). Other parents and
siblings will look over at the toddler having a tantrum, and
stare gormlessly, blatantly judging myself, my brother, and his
upbringing. They mistake him for being abused or somewhat
neglected, I gather from the looks. But do you know what? I don't
give a toss. I wouldn't have him any other way. I don't think I
could be more proud of him. There is a continuous smile on my
face when I am around him, whether he is hoovering up with Henry
or creating videos of him and my younger sister repeatedly
singing "Wind the Bobbin up".

I find it rather fascinating. People with autism see the
world completely differently to us. It's like having a blank
canvas and creating what you want the world to be like. We'll
never know how they see it, but those of us who have such
luminaries in our lives are fortunate enough to catch a glimpse.